AllFreeNovel
Share Us
CLAY
There’s nothing worse than being called out for being a dick when in general I’m not one. It goes against the grain for me.
I’m not angry at her anymore. I’m really not. I meant it when I said these are my issues not hers, but I can see how she still thinks I’m angry with her. It’s not like I told her anything different. Plus, I did just have my epiphany about all of this yesterday.
I’ll also admit Juliet wasn’t the friendliest to her, and I did nothing to stop it. I didn’t think Emma would get as upset as she did, but as I learned down in her room, there’s apparently more to the story of her and the ex than I know. If he truly is an ex, that is—six years is a long time. Then again, what does it say about him that he broke things off with her six times? Six! Why any guy in their right mind would choose not to be with someone as awesome as her, I’ll never understand.
“I already love this place,” Emma says next to me after we walk into Route 11. I meant it when I said I had thought about us coming here earlier this morning. Partly because I wanted to extend an olive branch on this new place we’ve found ourselves and partly because being cooped up in my house has my mind wandering to places it shouldn’t be. I know that she was nervous on the way here; I could tell by the lack of talking on her part and the way she continually rubbed the ring on her finger, but I’m nervous too.
I don’t want us to be nervous. I just want us to be past it. Will I trust her again? That’s hard to say. There’s a Russian proverb that says, “Trust, but verify,” and I couldn’t agree more.
This place has the typical look of a brewery with warehouse vibes and a lot of rustic wooden tables. Where it differs is that it’s housed in an old barn just outside of town. There is a mixed collection of state route and highway signs decorating the walls, and there’s country music playing.
I let off a hum acknowledging her as I make my way toward the bar where we post up in two chairs, hanging our coats on the backs. Emma is wearing a tight lavender turtleneck and trendy jeans, her hair is pulled up into a ponytail, and she has on some shiny lip gloss that makes her lips look inviting. I tear my eyes off of her at the exact moment the bartender turns to greet us. Recognition flashes through his eyes. Beside me, Emma drops her head to hide her face a bit and stares at the menu on the counter in front of us. I can’t help but stretch my arm across the back of her chair. I don’t like her feeling uncomfortable.
“I appreciate y’all coming in today. Have you been here before?” the guy asks.
“Nope,” I answer for the both of us.
“All right. All our beers are brewed in house, and a few of our ciders are outsourced. They do change frequently, and we love seasonals. Up there on the board is what we have today.” He turns and points toward a large chalkboard menu hanging over the different taps. “Do you know what you might want?”
I scan the list and quickly decide. “I’ll have the Coastal Plains IPA.” I shift a little to face Emma, and she tells him she’d like him to surprise her with a flight of the ciders and sours.
He nods his head. “Name’s Graham if y’all need anything,” he says, glancing back and forth between us one more time.
“He knows who we are,” she whispers after he walks away, and then she discreetly looks around to see if anyone else has recognized us. I drop my arm and do the same.
There are only a few people here and they aren’t paying any attention to us at all. What I do find against the far wall is a small, raised platform, and I can’t help but wonder if he has live music nights. There’s something about a local place that lets people who love music perform. Yes, that takes me back to our Smokey’s days, the place where we got started, and for that I’m appreciative.
Bringing my attention back to Emma, I tell her, “It’s my fault. I’m getting recognized more than before. Everything has been crazy for me since Ash’s wedding. That song was meant for them, it never occurred to me that it would become such a thing.”
She swivels a little so her knee is touching mine as she leans in. “Clay, I love that song. It’s so good, and I can completely understand why the world wants it.”
Heat flashes through my cheeks.
“I guess.” I let out a deep sigh. “P-People want me to p-perform it at the CMT Awards in April.”
God, I hate this stutter.All I’m doing is sitting here talking to her and I can barely get the words out. Yes, it’s more prominent when I’m nervous or have high emotion, but I shouldn’t be having that now. If I can’t even mention singing by myself in front of so many people without this happening, how am I actually going to do it?
She tilts her head a little to study me and then asks, “What do you want to do?”
It’s the first time since the idea was brought up that someone has asked me that. Everyone has said I should do it and how great it would be, but no one could tell me why. I mean I’m not an up-and-coming artist, we’re already known in the music industry, and I’m not really sure I want to be in the spotlight by myself, so what do I have to gain?
“I don’t know.” I pick up the cardboard coaster in front of me and twirl it between my fingers. “Just thinking about being in front of all those p-people by myself has my shoulders pulling together, my throat tightening, and my tongue getting heavier.”
I never talk about my stutter. Ever. It’s water under the bridge at this point in my life, but with her, I guess I find it easy to discuss.
“Is that what it feels like for you? To stutter?” she asks.
I focus on her knee as it’s still pressed against mine and notice that her leg is so much smaller than mine, small but not small enough that she can’t lock her ankles behind my back.
Damn.
Her lips . . . her legs . . . all these are thoughts I definitely shouldn’t be having about her.
Running my hand over the back of my neck, I tell her, “Sometimes. Mostly I just feel like I’ve lost control of how to use my mouth. I’m pushing so hard for the words to come out, but it just feels like pushing and pushing against my teeth. It sucks.”
I hate talking about this. I really do.
